


The summer of Dream(s)

by StyrofoamSlashPlans



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mutual Pining, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Rating will change, Slow Burn, Summer Romance, Unrequited Love, sorta - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-11
Updated: 2021-02-15
Packaged: 2021-03-17 08:48:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,568
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29347671
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StyrofoamSlashPlans/pseuds/StyrofoamSlashPlans
Summary: "You can call me Dream."And in George's mind, there wasn't a word in the English language that he could have used to better describe this man.
Relationships: Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 26





	1. "Dream" -Introduction

**Author's Note:**

> Things about my story to note:  
> -The story is based heavily on the youtube film: "The Summer of Mesa" it's awesome! Check it out!  
> \- Real names will be used. If you are someone who is uncomfortable of that, be wary.  
> \- There aren't many major triggering topics addressed in this story, just an angsty tale of love and acceptance.  
> \- There may be nsfw content in later chapters if I feel like adding it, there will be a warning in the chapters notes if so.  
> \- I live off praise. If you like the story, comment as much as you like! I love reading them!

Nothing was more familiar to George than the fickleness of the sun and wind. Out of the four seasons, three of his have always been spent in a climate in which Monday could be sunny and delicate and Tuesday will include dark clouds and harsh winds. He was used to it by now though, it was familiar. George liked familiarity. He’s very content to stay where he knows what to expect, do what he knows the outcome of, talk to the same people he’s known all of his life, people that are safe, familiar, practical. But he can only bask in that familiarity three seasons of the four, because the fourth one is spent away from what he knows, away from what’s familiar. 

The fourth one is right now, the weather hot and humid, you always know what to expect, the only consistent thing in this new change of scenery George forces himself into every summer. 

The warm kiss of the sun on his skin was not unwelcome, though his eyes, which were much more used to the cloudy shade of London, had a hard time keeping up with the now bright, long days of the Floridian summer. His sunglasses slipped down his nose as he mapped out the words on the page he was reading. Getting immersed back into the twisting story, his surroundings flitted away. The pond he was sitting at was gone, there was no more hot summer air, no more bright sunlight threatening to blind him at a mere glance at the reflective water in front of him. Everything was muted, in favor of focusing on the book. Until it wasn’t. 

The sound of water moving around near him brought him back to reality, quickly glancing up to identify the source of the noise. But when his vision cast on the pond water, there was nothing there, the only hint that there had been, were the slowly dissipating ripples in the water. An eerie silence overtook George. Raising the sunglasses off his eyes to get a better look at the pond, he dog-eared the page he was on and slowly- tentatively, set the book down on the grass next to him. 

Before he could even make to stand up, the water suddenly jumped, or rather, something in the water. Gasping, he threw himself backwards, completely forgetting the book laying helplessly on the ground. 

“Boo.” 

And there was a face, grinning, smirking at him from the water. The person in the water had to have been kneeling in the muddy water, having just popped their head and shoulders out of the water in an admittedly successful attempt at spooking the person who happened to be sitting on the shore. Theirs- _His_ \- cocky smile caught George’s attention, bringing it to his face. Following the movement of his mouth, he had shallow, barely visible dimples, and a light spattering of freckles across his cheekbones that were no doubt brought out by the constant sun. 

His eyes, barely visible due to his long hair dripping over them, carried his smile all the way, showing genuine proud entertainment in getting a reaction out of George. George couldn’t clearly see or identify the color, but he could tell it seemed like a sort of hazel-tinted greenish yellow, which he told himself meant they were green. A brilliant color, pairing beautifully, aesthetically, with his long dark-blonde hair, the roots were just dark enough to let George know that the man’s hair most likely got lighter with the sun. 

Realizing he had been dazedly staring at the now laughing man, George quickly scrunched up his face to show a look of what could have either been confusion or annoyance, either way, he’s sure it gets his point across. Scooting back to his spot in the grass, he reached to pick his book back up, trying to convey that he wasn’t too terribly bothered by the other man’s plights. 

The pond man lets out a content huff when he notices George has gone back to reading, trying his best to seem unbothered. George then hears the water sloshing around again as the other man wades himself out of the soft mud of the shallows and up onto the shore of the pond. 

When he’s fully standing, George notices he grabs a towel from the ground nearby, which George had failed to even see up until this point, clearly having been too immersed in his book to even notice there was someone swimming in the pond. 

“Good book?” The man says with a slight chuckle. Caught off guard by the sudden break in the short silence, George hesitates. 

“Uh-... yeah.” He decides to leave it at that, he doesn’t owe this man more than that anyway. There was a pregnant pause before the other man seemed to realize that was all he was getting, then he stepped over to George, standing over him. _Standing over_ him. 

When the book was suddenly shaded from the sun by the figure standing in front of it, he finally brought his eyes up to meet the others’. He was immediately struck by something, that something being the _height_ of the other man. Even as he was sitting George could tell that if he had been standing, he still would have been near-dwarfed by the other. 

Before George could focus on that for too long, there were water droplets hitting his face, and to his horror, the pages of his book. He grimaced before he glared up at the other man who had just shake-dried his hair directly at George. 

“What’s your name?” The statement greatly contrasted the rude prior action in such a way that almost made George refuse the question, just to get back at him. But the man’s smile that he still wore proudly made George feel strangely inclined to answer anyway.

“George.” He simply said, bringing himself to look the man in his eyes as the other towel-dried his arms. George could have been imagining it, but the other’s grin seemed to grow just a little in that moment. 

“Well, nice to meet you George.” Expecting the man to continue to introduce himself, George felt his eyes flicking to the other man’s movements, the way he gripped the towel, the way his forearms flexed as he dried himself off, the way the water droplets still fell from his hair, trailing down the sides of his face and on down his neck-

His thoughts were cut off by the man walking past him, seemingly ending the conversation. Bewildered, George halted for a moment before turning around to see the man walking away towards the path that leads back to some part of the small town beyond the trees. 

“Hey, wait.” The man pauses at George’s words, like he was expecting them, but didn’t turn around. He gave a questioning hum instead. 

“What’s your name?” George could faintly see the muscles in the man's neck move as he chuckled. He twisted his head around to look George in the eyes again. The contact was almost enough to make George track his eyes to the ground, but in order to do that, he would have to risk dragging his eyes across the man’s towel-and-shorts-clad body, so instead he maintained the eye contact. 

“You can call me Dream.” George’s eyebrows furrowed at the words, but before he could question the other man, he had started away again with just a laugh, leaving George behind, dazed. 

He rolled his eyes, deciding he wouldn’t get any more reading done tonight, and grabbed his book before pushing himself off the soft ground.


	2. "And he burns"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "It set something off inside him, something new."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- Slight Trigger warning for alcohol and smoking, nothing major and it's all in good fun, but nevertheless.  
> \- Slight warning there is also an original character in the story, but she's only in there for plot convenience and to incite angst, cause that's what we're all about. 
> 
> Other than that, happy reading.

Maybe the hot weather wasn’t the only thing George could count on to stay the same in Florida. The house that belonged to a friend of his mother’s, and her daughter, even after years had passed, always managed to stay the same. George could very well have been able to navigate the lived-in halls with a blindfold at this point. 

That fact however, didn’t stop their excited hosts to be any less enthusiastic in giving them a _pre-dinner tour_ of the house anyway. 

George’s mother seemed perfectly content with the repetitive greetings and _“It’s been too long!”_ s, but George was getting a bit impatient, hoping the pleasantries would drop soon so they could just eat already and he could be out of here. Of course, it would be rude to rush it, after all, they haven’t seen each other in nearly a year. He knew his mother found a friend in Mrs. Oakley, they had met at a garden club meeting many summers ago and had bonded ever since. 

George had known Mrs. Oakley’s daughter, Jane, for just about as long, them both having been around eleven when they were first introduced by their mothers over lunch. George, ever the introvert, had been shy, hiding behind his mother from the stranger. The two women had just laughed, telling George that he and Jane would be the best of friends. And they were right, for a while. 

As they got older and their interests evolved, they just sort of drifted apart a little. It seemed every summer that George came back to Florida, Jane had a new interest, a new hobby, a new _boyfriend_ , she went through phases faster than George went through one of his books. Meanwhile George, well, he didn’t change much growing up, still the same reserved, distracted boy he had always been. Except, not much of a boy at all anymore. He had had his nineteenth birthday not too long ago, and had grown into his features, still not _quite_ at a proud height, but definitely he would get there soon, _he hopes._

When the gods seemed to take pity on George and it was finally time to eat, George couldn’t help but feel a little awkward. Jane had been seeming to stare fondly at him throughout the meal,making comments, trying to get a conversation out of him, never really getting more than a half hearted response and a fake smile. It wasn’t too overly uncomfortable, just a little tense, probably from not having seen each other for so long. He had nothing against the Oakleys, they were very warm and polite people, George just had trouble adjusting to new surroundings and people, though it helped that they were childhood friends, he would still need to warm up to it. 

Seeming to sense this, Mrs. Oakley turned to him, pausing her conversation with his mother about flowers or something. 

“I know Jane’s been talking about going to a party tonight, maybe you’d like to go with her?” And it wasn’t a demand, it was a genuine offer. Mrs. Oakley had never been one to pressure him, she knew it could be hard for him sometimes, but she liked to push his comfort zone. 

“As a chaperone?” George couldn’t help but feel the need to crack a joke, to alleviate the seriousness he was feeling. The table around him all let out their own laughs as he smiled warmly as the woman. 

“As a friend.” It was Jane who spoke this time, George turned his head to face her, and he could see it, _something_ , in her eyes when she said friend, she meant something else. 

George doesn’t know why he agreed, maybe he felt the need to push himself, maybe he truly did miss Jane after all this time, or maybe he just felt bad saying no. 

The walk to where the party would be was tedious to say the least. The sun had already set by the time they had set out and they were walking in darkness, path lit by the streetlights and stars. 

Around five minutes into the mostly silent walk, Jane had complained about being cold, and George, having human decency, even though the wind chilled him a bit as well, offered his jacket, to which she gratefully accepted, seeming more than content with the exchange. It certainly wasn’t cold, and George was used to lower temperature just the same, but the wind chill coupled with the high humidity in the air left him feeling rather clammy, just enough to be uncomfortable, but not enough to make him shiver. 

Jane had started yet again, trying to strike up a conversation. Pitying the poor girl, George smiles and goes along with her words, pausing slightly when she wrapped a hand around his forearm as they walked, before melting into the touch. George couldn’t help but feel conflicted with himself. On one hand, he greatly welcomed the affection, having physical touch as a love language, which could be unfortunate for someone as reserved as himself. But on the other hand, he felt like something was off, something about the touch was slightly wrong. He couldn’t put his finger on why exactly, but for some reason, her touch wasn’t enough, was too light, too vulnerable. Feeling rude for the intrusion in his thoughts, he shook it from his head. 

Jane, noticing his expression, smiled tenderly at him. 

“You’re really pretty, y’know?” George’s mind halted at the words that came from her mouth. Instead of feeling happy, like the compliment was meant to do, he felt threatened. The words made him far more uncomfortable than he knew they should’ve, they made him feel vulnerable, not a feeling he enjoyed. 

Before the girl could notice his distress, he pushed the feeling away, shaking his head. _Deflect_ , he forced himself to deflect the attention from himself. 

“You’re the pretty one.” He chuckled, seeing the blush on her cheeks even in the dim night. Feeling accomplished with himself, he noticed her steps stopped as they came to a curve in the sidewalk, leading down to the beach. 

“Here we are.” She sighed. George could see the light of a small fire in the sand below, silhouetted figures moving around it. As they started to walk down the boarded sidewalk, they ran into another person, clearly on their way out, clearly male. When he got closer, George could recognise his face though he couldn’t recall from where.

“Clay!” Jane exclaimed health-heartedly, stopping her stride in front of the man. “Man, it's been a while.” Fearing that maybe this man was a past lover of Jane’s, George felt rather awkward. If this man were to see George as some sort of threat, well, he wouldn’t pose much of a competition. The guy was at least a head taller than George, and more built while George could admit, he himself was a little on the scrawny side. 

And then the man laughed. And that laugh, that _laugh_. George knew suddenly why the guy had seemed familiar, and why George suddenly felt like laughing himself, for no other reason than to match the other man’s amusement, to feel his emotion. 

Jane had called him Clay, which George had to admit, fit the man quite well. It wasn’t a fairly common name, but definitely a charming one, to George at least. It fit about as well as ‘Dream’ had. While the name Clay gave the man more of a domestic, friendly, intimate feel, _Dream_ seemed accurate as well, giving him a detached aura, almost inhuman, just _otherworldly._ George couldn’t decide which one he liked better. 

“Yeah it certainly has.” George’s suspicions were confirmed at the sound of the man’s voice, but it wasn’t completely the same as it had been during that day at the pond. Instead of the teasing, jabbing demeanor the man had taken with George, he now took a more friendly, serious sound. 

Then Clay’s eyes finally flicked past Jane and they made contact with George’s own. A surprised smile replaced the friendly one on his face, and it sent a spark up George’s spine, of what he assumed to just be nerves, the nervousness that came when speaking to new people. 

“George, right?” He held his hand out, presumably for George to shake. Feeling awkward, George accepted it, and when his hand was enveloped by the other man’s, George couldn’t help but notice how much larger it was than his. It wasn’t by too much, but coupled with the firm grip he gave George’s hand, George felt utterly _small_ , and _fragile_ compared to the Clay. He was once again conflicted, not sure how to feel about it. _Deflect._

“So you do have a name then? Good to know, _Dream_.” George had let out, teasingly smiling at the other man. 

When he pulled his hand back, Jane looked between the two of them. 

“You know each other?” George shook his head at the same time that Clay nodded, but Clay was the one she was looking at. 

“We met, yeah. Not too long ago though.” The taller man explained to her. She nodded, before speaking again. 

“You come from the party, Clay?” He let out a bitter chuckle at that. 

“It’s lame, trust me. Your friends are boring, Jane.” His tone of voice was level, chiding, as he rolled his eyes, but George could sense something below the surface, something that seemed less like disinterest, more like stress. George didn’t comment on it, neither did Jane if she heard it too. 

“But,” He raised his other hand, which was holding a glass bottle. “I stole some booze. And I will be drinking it, over there,” He pointed vaguely in the direction of a bench on the side of the road, lit slightly by a dim streetlight above it. “If you’d like to join me.” With that, he turned and started walking toward the bench, leaving no room for further conversation. His presence was enough to leave George chasing it, _and he didn’t know why_ , only that he wanted to be near the other man. 

Jane looked towards George, throwing a glance at Clay, then a glance in the direction of the party. 

“What do you say George?” She smiled at him, taking his arm again. “You seem like more of a small group guy, your choice.” Trying not to show his overwhelming gratefulness, he casted a feux considering glance toward the party, before laughing. 

“Well, if the party’s that boring…” Understanding him, Jane led them over to the bench that Clay was now leaning over the back of, his elbow resting on it as he took a sip of the bottle in his hand. Giggling, Jane let go of George in order to grab the bottle from Clay’s hands in a friendly show of humor, taking a swig of it while taking a seat on the bench near Clay. Clay throwing a playfully disgruntled look her way before patting the bench on the other side of him, smiling at George.

“C’mon, I don’t bite,” He glanced at Jane. “Can’t say the same for her though.” She gave a light whack at his shoulder, laughing. George hesitantly made his way to the bench and plopped down onto it.

The more they talked on that little bench, the more George realized how different Clay was from himself. While talking to Jane made him feel understood and safe, maybe a little bored but practical, talking to Clay, hearing Clay talk, it made him nervous, it was different, everything about him was. That didn’t change when Clay pulled out a pack of Marlboro reds. 

George had never smoked, never felt the pull to. He knew how unhealthy the stuff was, what it could do to you if you weren’t careful. Yet when Clay had offered one to him, he didn’t hesitate. He felt the same surprise at himself that he could see Jane felt, seeing him grab the cigarette from the taller man. Not having any experience, he didn’t know exactly how to hold it, or what to do with it for that matter. Holding it between his thumb and index finger, Clay instructed him to hold it up to his mouth, so he did. Then, Clay pulled out a small handheld lighter. From what George could see, it didn’t look very worn, maybe it didn’t get used often, or maybe it was new. It was a sickly yellow color, which George interpreted to a light green, and had a sharpied smiley face drawn on. 

George couldn’t help but feel endeared by the messily drawn smile, but his attention was drawn away when Clay leaned in closer to him, getting more into his space than George could leave unnoticed. Clay brings the hand holding the lighter up to the other’s face, flicking his thumb on the little red tab on the top, bringing a flame to life. George held his breath as the man held the fire underneath the end of his cigarette, lighting it, but waiting a few seconds before pulling away. 

In those few seconds, George _burned_. The small dancing flame of the lighter casted a warm glow onto Clay’s face, illuminating his eyes, casting shadows across the expanse. Those few seconds felt so long, and yet, incredibly short. When Clay again pulled away, George remembered what he was doing, but not on time. Forgetting he had been holding his breath, he inhales, and immediately a burning sensation fills his throat, making his eyes water. 

Thrown into a violent coughing fit, he decided no, he does not like smoking. Burning however, might be something he could get behind. 

Clay lets out a sharp wheeze at George’s distress, Jane laughing along too. Feeling embarrassed, as soon as George regains his composure, he attempts to change the subject. 

“So,” He winces at the gravelly sound of his sore throat. “How long have you two know each other?” He asks. 

“We don’t.” Clay says immediately, causing Jane to laugh at his outburst. 

“Wow, pretty defensive there, buddy. I think we had chemistry together last year.” She adds the last part nonchalantly. Clay then perks up. 

“Oh, I remember that.” It just prompts Jane to laugh more.   
  


“No you don’t! You were barely there!” She exclaims through giggles. I raise an eyebrow at Clay. 

“So… you smoke, you skip class, what else do you do?” Despite the question being phrased as a light hearted joke, Clay seems to think about it. 

“Well, I work on a farm,” The thought sat in George’s head. A guy like this, who smokes and drinks and cuts class, tenderly caring for plants. It was almost as laughable as it was endearing. The taller man then shrugs. 

“That’s about it, there’s not much to me.” George, caught in a moment of honesty, locks eyes with the other man. 

“I don’t think that’s true.” The words held so much deliberate truthfulness that George immediately flushed, flicking his eyes away. 

“Well… You wanna know what else I do?” The other man says, drawing George’s attention. “I drink!” He reached over to Jane, stealing the bottle from her and taking a swig of it, prompting George to give a charmed laugh. The action shouldn’t have caught George’s attention the way it did, making his eyes follow the way Clay’s hand gripped the bottle, or the way his throat moved as he swallowed. Caught in a trance George grabbed the bottle when Clay offered it to him after he was done. 

Bringing the bottle to his lips, he couldn't help but let his mind wander to the fact that Clay’s own lips had just touched the bottle as well. 

The liquid burned his throat on the way down, but not as much as the cigarette.

As they all settled in, taking more drinks, making more jokes, George’s mind grew past sober, slurring his words just slightly, making his laugh a little louder. 

Noticing this, Clay chuckled. 

“Alright, maybe we should get you home.” George looked at him, confused. 

“What? I’m fine.” Drawing out the ‘I’ sound, disproving his own point. He let the stronger man pull him to his feet. The spark he felt when Clay had shook his hand was now an inferno, it burned just below his skin, leaving George itching for more. 

“George, do you want me to walk you home?” Jane asked tentatively. Before he could answer Clay smiled at her. 

“I got him, it’s okay.” She raised an eyebrow. 

“Are you sure?” The taller nodded. She looked to George, who smiled, giving her confirmation. 

“Well, alright. His house is the yellow one on the left.” She pointed to the way far end of the street. Clay glanced to where she was looking before nodding. 

“Okay, make it home safe, Jane.” He threw over his shoulder, hearing her say something in return, but already occupied with trying to keep George on his feet. George giggled, throwing his arm around Clay’s neck as they walked, steadying himself and also feeling more contact between the both of them. He sighed contently as Clay shook his head fondly at him. 

Once they made it to George’s porch, Clay decided it would be smartest to make sure George got to bed and didn’t just collapse on the living room floor. He pushed the unlocked door open, pulling George in behind him before shutting the door quietly. He whispered to George, asking which room was his. 

George, already seeming to crash from the alcohol, simply pointed towards a dark wood door. Clay nodded, pulling him towards and into the room.

Sitting George down on the bed, Clay untied his shoes, pulling them off of him. George couldn’t help but let himself stare at the other man kneeled in front of him. Both of their cheeks flushed from the alcohol, both of their inhibitions lowered. Not thinking, George reached his hands out and set his hand on Clay’s head, running his fingers distractedly through his hair, noticing it, Clay tensed for a moment before giving an endeared chuckled, gently grabbing George’s hand and moving it to the bed. 

Their eyes found each other, meeting, and holding a gaze that said things words were incapable of. Things that, if George wasn’t drunk, he would be scared of. But he was drunk, and he knew you can’t trust your mind like that. Still, he basked in the feeling, let it course through his veins, flushing the alcohol, yet leaving him feeling even less capable of clear thinking. That didn’t mean he wouldn’t blame his thoughts of tonight on the alcohol later on though.

When the other man blinked, George let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. He seemed to do that a lot around Clay, holding his breath. Almost like the air around him was filled with the other man, coursing with his energy, heavy with the mysteries and secrets of a man George had yet to even thoroughly meet, and when George breathed, he breathed in Clay. 

He could feel it in his mouth as he let out a silent gasp, he could feel it in his throat, burning entirely more painful than the nicotine or alcohol, he could feel it in his lungs, setting flame, almost burning him, but not quite, growing ever brighter with each second he could breathe him in. 

It set something off inside him, something new, something George could tell was dangerous, and it _ached_ to be let out. 

But then Clay stood up, telling George to lay down. Wanting to do nothing other than obey the taller man, George did as he was told. Before Clay could say goodnight, he was out. 

Chuckling fondly, Clay ran his fingers through George’s hair before turning around to retreat from the house.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Got a little carried away with this chapter and I didn't want to leave you guys with nothing, so here you are. Not sure when chapter two will be out, but i'll try my best! As always, kudos are appreciated and comments are adored! Comments = More motivation = Faster Updates. No pressure though, I hope you enjoyed!

**Author's Note:**

> The introduction to my story. I haven't written the other chapters yet, I just wanted to get the idea out first. The actual chapters of the story will be longer than this because again, I was just getting my idea out. I hope you enjoy it so far and if you do, make sure to bookmark! You're in for a wild ride.


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